


Your Winter

by bioplast_hero



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftercare, Alternative Reality - Galra Sheith, BOM Keith (Voltron), Body Worship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Galra Shiro (Voltron), Half-Galra Keith (Voltron), Heartbeat Kink, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Non-Penetrative Sex, Poachers, Purring Shiro (Voltron), Size Difference, Xeno-Wildlife Conservationist Shiro, coming home from a mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:09:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29955921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioplast_hero/pseuds/bioplast_hero
Summary: Keith returns from a mission to surprise his mate, but a lot has happened while he was away. They've been through plenty together, but knowing Shiro was in danger doesn't sting any less for being familiar. They make it up to each other, make a plan— and Keith will stop at nothing to soothe all the places Shiro hurts.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 90





	Your Winter

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this AU in mind a while; there's backstory to this place and Shiro's highly specific conservation work and how sheith met— all of which is another story I want to tell sometime.
> 
> But sometimes ya just need some hurt/comfort husbands, so here we are.
> 
> Thanks to [Quantum](https://twitter.com/quantumabyssmal), [Rori](https://twitter.com/ragdollrory) and [Ari](https://twitter.com/Kaneki_Coffee) who all helped me with this in different ways; I appreciate the support. ♡

> _How long will the bed that we made together  
>  hold us there? Your stubbled cheeks grazed my skin  
> from evening to dawn  
> — Winter by Timothy Liu_

“C’mon boy,” Keith says to the wolf, opening the hatch. He set his fighter down under an overhang, tucked into the shallow cliffs. If he plays his cards right, he won’t lose another ship crushed under a sheet of ice. Winter can be unforgiving like that.

It’s easy to spot home in the snow-covered valley below, especially on a clear day. Theirs would be the only column of woodsmoke to be seen on Borne even if you surveyed the entire moon. Very remote, but they like it that way.

Keith runs his fingers into the wolf’s furry ruff. “Just to the valley, alright? Nice day for a walk.” He smiles at his companion as the wolf chuffs, probably just as happy for a chance to stretch his legs after a tedious mission.

A pop of ozone is all the warning Keith gets before the animal dumps them both into a deep snowbank.

Spitting snowflakes, Keith rolls his eyes. “Har har, very funny.” He glares at the wolfy grin he gets in return. “Trail?”

_Pop._

“Yeah, thanks, buddy,” Keith snorts, dusting himself off ineffectually as the wolf shakes and gives Keith another cold power-dusting, chuffing his amusement.

They set off at a brisk pace after that. Jokes aside, they’re both eager to be home after several movements away— eager to stretch out before the hearth, with a hot meal and their _other_ favorite person in the universe, aside from each other.

Keith has missed his mate. He can almost feel the man’s large arms enfolding him, his warmth.

The wolf runs and leaps, playing while Keith trudges through knee-deep snow. There are plenty of markers to know the way as the open plain gives way to thickets of star hazel, stitchbroom and bright red winterberry. The fruits are unpalatable to Galra and human alike, but a healthy crop is still a welcome sight, the favored meal of the blue-throated astrapia who winter here.

Keith isn’t out here to work, but he’s spent too many deca-phoebes in love with a field ecologist to pass through these woods without checking in on at least some of their passive sensors. It’s been a good cycle for astrapia, the population healthy and thriving. It wasn’t always like this.

Keith kind of loves this funny little bird, with its hypnotic song, bright ribbon tail and glittering rings of quintessence blue banding the throat.

The bird led him to Shiro.

Keith smiles to himself at the crunch of branches in the distance. Wouldn’t you know, that bird is leading him to his mate once again.

“Can’t keep you away for anything,” Keith calls to him, delighted by the familiar way the white streak of Shiro’s hair bobs as the man turns, soft ears flicking and following Keith’s voice.

“Keith!” Shiro bounds through snow drifts like he was made for it, towering over them, his furred feet broad like snowshoes in their own right. Not like Keith’s feet, one of the many ways he took after his dad’s side. And somehow he didn’t get _either_ of his parents’ height genes— a damn shame.

Shiro crosses the meters between them, closing the distance so quickly that Keith just stands and lets Shiro come to him. He’s busy drinking in the sight of Shiro, anyway, from the Galra’s powerful body and tail in motion to the look of pure joy on this sweet man’s face.

Keith gasps a laugh as Shiro sweeps him up into a crushing hug, feet swinging high off the ground. Shiro’s laughter is warm and rumbling between their chests.

“Sweetheart, I missed you,” Shiro laughs, nuzzling his nose along Keith’s cheekbone. “Don’t go away for so long. You know how I hate it.”

“I know,” Keith hides his blush against the soft fur of Shiro’s neck, warm on his bare skin, the scent musky and familiar. “But now we’ll have supplies for phoebs, and I’ll have no reason to go.”

Shiro makes a show of pouting, making sure Keith sees as much while he gently settles his husband on his feet again. He deposits Keith carefully in a bit of snow he’d already stomped down before Shiro blustered into him, lest his mate’s much smaller frame vanish in snow drifts that easily reach his waist.

Shiro looks like he means to argue the point— about the questionable necessity of supply runs, about Keith’s over-long absences— but Keith beats him to the punch with a worried frown.

“Baby, you’re hurt,” Keith tuts, spotting the cloth bandages peeking out of Shiro’s tunic over his collarbone.

“It’s—”

“—Don’t you dare say _just a scratch._ Takashi Shirogane doesn’t _wrap_ a goddamn scratch,” Keith scowls. “What in the hell happened?”

“Walk with me. I’ll fill you in on the way.”

Keith doesn’t like the way Shiro won’t meet his eyes, but he doesn’t push, not yet. Shiro will tell him. Whatever it is, he’s just deciding how to put it… not that that doesn’t _also_ make Keith worry.

The walk is easier from here even in the deeper drifts, now that they’re retracing Shiro’s broad steps. Keith feels how the souls of his shoes are dwarfed by the huge tracks the Galra makes. Keith was surrounded by massive Galra all his life and never _enjoyed_ feeling small in their presence— not until Shiro. These days Keith can’t get enough of all the ways Shiro overwhelms him.

Keith lets his mind linger and appreciate all of these things, the details of their walk, the way their lives have become woven together. He tries to let that ground him as Shiro starts filling in the important details.

“Raiders!” Keith echoes, feeling just as emptied out as his voice sounds. “Fuck. Imperial?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Shiro answers. “Just opportunists, scavengers.”

Keith eyes his mate, the bandage still peeking out of his clothes. “ _Just_ opportunists?” he balks. It takes more than a few randos to get a hit in on Shiro, who wasn’t always a biologist. Some habits die hard, but they’ve kept Shiro alive and that’s what matters.

Shiro sighs. “There were… a lot of them. Three ships.”

Keith whistles, trailing off when he’s not sure how to broach things. “I had the receiver on me the whole time. No beacon, Shiro? You know I’d have come right away.”

“It was over before there was time. I just… dealt with it.” Shiro’s look is faraway, and Keith knows why. That means Shiro took a life. Several, from the sounds of it. It always costs him dearly.

But there’s something more in that look.

“C’mon, what is it?”

“I… I should have set the beacon before I went after them.”

Keith nods, nibbling his lip. “I wish you would. I need to know you’re okay.”

“I didn’t want to worry you. But… I had a feeling, and it wasn’t wrong. It was a close call, Keith. I can admit that much, at least to you.”

Keith finds his mate’s hand, the sharp cold of his polymer grip, and squeezes. He slows his steps until Shiro turns to face him toe to toe. A plum blush blooms under the Galra’s lavender fur, his silver eyes sharp and clear, so earnest.

“I know what you’ll say,” Shiro murmurs, tail twitching, “but if I’d gone off-world with you, the astrapia would have been totally defenseless,” he sighs, exasperated. “I can’t allow that to happen again, not like before—”

Keith holds up a hand, reaching to settle it over Shiro’s heart. The act feels like pressing his fingertips to his mate’s lips, which he can’t honestly reach when they’re toe to toe, and this works just as well to settle him. It settles them both, really; Keith can feel the deep throb of the powerful organ through Shiro’s clothes, hammering away. Every beat reminds him that Shiro _is_ alive. That they’re right here, together in this moment.

“Come on, Shiro. That isn’t what I was going to say at all.” Shiro cocks his head in surprise, coming down on one knee to face Keith properly before he continues. “They need you. I know that. I know that you’d risk your life before a single feather of theirs. Because you are the kindest, most generous person I’ve ever known.”

Shiro averts his eyes, blushing and shifting uncomfortably under the praise. “You need to meet better people, Keith.”

“Nah-ah,” Keith cuts him off. “None of that. You saved this whole ecosystem, every creature here in this miraculous place depends on astrapia. And that means they depend on _you,_ too.” Keith combs his fingers through the snowy streak of Shiro’s forelock, brushing white strands out of his eyes. “Your heart is so big, I don’t know how you carry all of that half the time. Only…”

“Yes?”

“It’s not just yours to carry. Not anymore. Let me carry it with you.”

Shiro’s words fail him. He gives it several tries, but when he finally just sighs, at least he’s smiling.

“Is that a yes?” Keith prompts him.

“You’re right. Of course.” Shiro searches Keith’s face, eyes roaming over his chilled cheeks and the line of his faded scar. “We’ll figure something out, together. Like you always remind me.”

Keith presses his lips to Shiro’s forehead, his cheeks, and finally his plush lips.

“Together.”

*

The wolf huffs enormously as he plops down in front of the hearth. For as fluffy as the creature is, his kind didn’t evolve for extreme winters. The wolf enjoys the fireside at least as much as Keith with all his pale, bare skin.

“Alright, big guy.” Keith drapes his sash over a chair, eyes on his mate. “Let me see your wound.”

Shiro discards his tunic and lets Keith settle over his lap at the edge of their bed to remove his bandages.

It’s not bad as injuries go. Keith is more spooked that anyone got a blade into Shiro at all. If they’d overpowered him—

He can’t think of it.

He focuses instead on the sensations. The woven cloth between his fingers as he unwinds the last of the bindings. The humid heat of Shiro’s breath at Keith’s shoulder as he straddles Shiro’s large thigh. The brush of the short, soft fur dusting Shiro’s chest as Keith examines him with his hands as well as his eyes, using all of his senses. The same thin fur continues down Shiro’s belly and under his arms, right up to the scarred seam where his prosthesis fits snuggly. He listens to the soft rush of Shiro’s breathing and the whoosh of his tail as Keith pats antiseptic over the cut. It’s healing fine. But it shouldn’t have happened at all.

“Let’s let this breathe for a tick,” Keith says. He makes a point of checking Shiro’s torso all over for other hurts that may have escaped his mention, moving behind him to check the man’s back where the lavender fur is thicker and so soft. The worst of the rest is probably the deep bruising over Shiro’s ribs down his left side.

“That smarts, too,” Shiro groans, following Keith’s eyes and his touch.

“You’re learning.”

“Learning?”

Keith meets his gaze. “Not to hide from me.”

Shiro’s expression shifts into something naked and yearning. “Never.” He kisses Keith’s lips, chasing as Keith pulls back to see his face. “Keith, never.”

The kisses are slow, almost meditative. They’re hovering on the edge of desire. It’s a testament, really, to Keith’s capacity for worry, that he can focus on anything but his lust when he has Shiro like this, under his hands, between his thighs. But there will be time for that, too, after he’s done his damnedest to mend everywhere Shiro hurts.

Keith opens a tin of salve, scooping a generous amount into his fingers and spreading it slowly over the brackish bruising. Shiro’s head dips back as he murmurs aloud, some soft nonsense that says _touch me_ but also _gently._

“That feel alright?” Keith asks.

Shiro exhales, tipping his head forward. It isn’t a kiss or even a nuzzle, and still Keith’s heart flutters as Shiro leans into the air so near Keith’s skin. He seems to breathe easier for it.

The shutters clatter loudly in their latches with the next sharp gust of wind. The wolf inches closer to the fire with a moody little whine, but Keith likes this weather. It’s clear, the sun bright through the window, but it’s plenty cold enough to warrant crawling into a nest made from their bedding and staying there all quintant. It’s the season of hibernation, after all.

Keith gets Shiro’s shoulder wrapped up, going slow and taking care to do it right. He settles back over his lap, knees hugging Shiro’s thigh where he bears his weight.

“Angel,” Shiro breathes, voice honeyed but hesitating.

“Yeah?”

“You’re, um- well- my knee is sore, too.”

“Shiro!” Keith squawks a little too sharply, scrambling from Shiro’s lap to teeter on his feet at the edge of the mattress. For a rare moment, he towers over his husband and Shiro looks up at him through white strands.

“If I’m hurting you, please say so?” Keith sighs. He means to scold but he _can’t,_ he’s so weak for those soft puppy eyes.

“Well, I did, you see.” Shiro raises an eyebrow in challenge.

Keith groans. “Okay. Fair. But you’re hurt. And I can’t stand you suffering to not _inconvenience_ me,” he says, stroking fingertips along Shiro’s jaw.

“I wasn’t _suffering,”_ Shiro scoffs, eyes very nearly rolling. He definitely picked that up from Keith, one of a thousand ways they’ve rubbed off on one another.

Keith strokes under Shiro’s soft chin, and the man’s eyes do flutter then, leaning into the touch despite fully intending to keep up the pout. Keith knows he’s playing dirty, and keeps at it. “Take off your trousers.”

Shiro’s eyes narrow. “I wish you meant that as a come-on.”

“Who’s saying I don’t?” Keith meets his gaze, loving how his mate’s eyes darken for him and the sight of the soft excited twitch of his ears. “I want a lot of things, you know. But, first things first. Let me take care of you.”

“Fine,” Shiro unfastens his belt as Keith steps to the side. “And it wasn’t the damn raiders, to be clear. I slipped on the stoop this morning, if you must know,” Shiro scowls.

“Wait, really?”

“It was very slick.”

“Puppy.” Keith’s smile wobbles around the tug of laughter and far more affection than he can possibly hold inside. Nothing and no one is this precious, Keith knows with absolute certainty; only Shiro bears that singular distinction.

Keith glances down, and sure enough, his mate’s knee is bruised exactly like he took a fall and nothing more. “I’m proud of you,” he says.

Shiro huffs.

“It’s true,” Keith murmurs, smiling into their kiss. Shiro’s clawed fingers scrape into his hair, giving Keith wonderful chills as he combs through his mess of tangles. He loves Shiro’s massive hands, all the power and tenderness they hold. Their lips slide together in a barely-there brush. “Can I kiss it better?”

“I don’t know, _can_ you?” Shiro keeps his tone even, the little shit, though the shape of his smile is an obnoxious taunt. Keith would rib him for it, if he wasn’t already hurt.

Refusing to dignify the quip with any response, Keith tips his mate back onto the bed, watching Shiro’s eyes darken further.

Keith tosses some pillows around until the space feels right. It’s not much of a nest, their blankets and cushions gently strewn about— like Shiro woke up groggy and couldn’t be bothered with it. Keith isn’t very particular about nests in the first place, though he’s learned to appreciate the comfort of it, the care that goes into making it just right for the two of them. He’s learned the art of it well enough, at least as far as what Shiro likes best.

Keith smiles to think of the nest that would have been waiting for them if Shiro had known he was coming home today. Utterly unnecessary, but Shiro’s a charmer like that.

Shiro watches him openly, stretched out in nothing but his undershorts while Keith moves over him in his Marmoran gear. Shiro has made perfectly clear in all their time together that he enjoys that view plenty well, too, but Keith will have to catch up soon or Shiro will get impatient to feel their bodies pressed together.

First, Keith crawls down the length of Shiro’s body, setting between his shins and pressing a gentle kiss to his man’s knee. If it’s silly and sentimental, neither one of them objects one bit. Shiro’s breath whooshes softly as he settles back, letting each kiss wash over him.

There are old scars beneath Shiro’s thin coat of fur, clues to his former life. Keith feels them under his fingers and doesn’t reach for those stories— he knows them, collecting them over time as Shiro chooses when to share, but they don’t matter right now. The scars are not who Shiro is.

Under Keith’s hands and his lips, Shiro starts purring.

“Feel good?” Keith teases.

“Yeah,” Shiro sighs, his purr soft and rumbly, more of a deep sensation than a sound. Keith loves it, and knows how content Shiro must feel to give voice to his comfort in that way.

Keith doesn’t _quite_ purr, not as such. He is half-human, his body and instincts always somewhere in between… or off the map entirely. (“Just Keith,” Shiro reminds him often.) But Keith has learned to recognize the feeling of it— when his own breath slows and rolls through his chest with a heavy rhythm, exactly like it would with a proper purr. Shiro noticed it first, busily memorizing Keith’s every facet with a lover’s fond eye. And that seemed fitting, too; Keith had never felt his body do that until Shiro came into his life and showed him what it was to know that kind of peace.

Keith strips away his Blades suit with practiced ease until he’s naked at Shiro’s feet. He feels the Galra’s warm gaze follow him as he moves. Keith pets up Shiro’s sides, gently scratching through his fur and massaging Shiro’s tense muscles. He peppers kisses over his bruised ribs and leaves his mate shuddering, toes flexing.

“Keith,” he says, voice hushed and wanting.

“I’m getting there,” Keith smiles, licking over Shiro’s lower nipples. His back arches into the sensation. “Don’t rush me.”

Shiro grumbles, blushing. His breath hitches when Keith’s fingers curl under the waistband of his underwear, feeling along his hip bones. He lifts his hips for Keith to pull the last of his clothes away.

Keith has to stare for a moment. A few, in fact, fingers curling possessively at Shiro’s hips. He loves Shiro’s thighs, possibly unreasonably much. They’re so large, sculpted and strong. Shiro’s cock is a thing of beauty, too, heavy and gently curved against his belly. By the time Keith drags his eyes up the gorgeous planes of Shiro’s stomach and chest, he finds Shiro’s eyes glinting with a mischievous smile.

“You’re looking at me like one of your Earth cats again. What did you call it again?”

Keith huffs. “A tiger. And that’s you,” he strokes along Shiro’s broad stripes that curve along his sides.

Shiro exaggerates a growl. He’s playing but Keith throbs with the sound. Keith grips his hips hard, steadying himself. Desperate. Needy, that’s what he feels— torn between thirst for his mate’s body and a heavy feeling lurking between his ribs. _Shiro was in danger._

_Danger, and I wasn’t here._

_If anything had happened…_

“Keith?” Shiro rises to his elbows, brow furrowed. He reaches to cup the nape of Keith’s neck in a firm grip. And oh how he wants that— he needs to feel it, Shiro’s strength, his certainty.

Keith isn’t sure what his face is doing, but he knows enough from the way his mate’s face creases.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” He pulls Keith’s wrist to lay his small hand over Shiro’s heart. “Feel me?”

“Yes.” Keith makes the shape of the word only, sure somehow that if he voices it he’ll shatter. The ragged edge of the cloth bandages is right there, too. He strokes the edge with his thumb, letting the rhythmic waves of Shiro’s heartbeat lap at his frayed nerves.

Keith holds everything that’s precious in the palm of his one tiny hand, and he can’t think of losing this. He _can’t._

Shiro rolls him down into bed, curling around him instinctively, possessively. Their limbs tangle, both pressing as close together as they can. Keith’s ear finds his sternum, drawn in to where he can best be sure that Shiro’s tremendous heart is _fine,_ whatever his fears. He listens to every throb and knows the tempo is fast for Shiro. Worried, Keith thinks.

“I was taking care of _you,”_ Keith pouts, clinging even tighter.

“We are,” Shiro coos, breath warm against his scalp. “You are my heart.” He pets Keith’s hair, soothing through the choppy length of it and tugging just the way Keith likes. “We have to take good care of that, you know. It’s in both our interests.”

“You’re such a dork,” Keith laughs so he won’t fucking cry. “That’s how it feels, though. Fuck. I- it’s like you’re my heart, walking around outside my chest.” He squirms, voice strained to the point of breaking. “How am I supposed to keep you safe?”

“Well, I have some part in that, too.” Shiro squeezes him, tucks him impossibly closer, holding him steady so he can’t even try to fly apart. Like he _knows_ Keith is ready to shatter. “I learned my lesson, Keith. I hope you can believe me. I was— afraid. That I could leave you alone in this world. I can’t accept that. Never.”

Keith does cry, then, great silent tears of pain and awe. He’s in awe of Shiro, his strength and his beautiful, giving soul. It’s hard for this man to say where he hurts, where he’s vulnerable. What truly scares him.

“I believe you,” Keith whispers, burying his face in Shiro’s body, kissing his fur and nuzzling with his cheek.

“I’ll use the beacon, whenever there could be trouble. You deserve to know.”

Keith nods. “And I won’t be so far away,” he says.

“I- I want that, sweetheart, but your missions,” Shiro trails off. Keith knows he’s biting his lip, one sweet little fang digging in. He wishes he could see it for himself, though he’s unwilling to pull away from Shiro’s chest— he’s not ready to, not yet.

“I told Kolivan I needed a change,” Keith says. “Wanted to tell you tonight.”

Shiro tenses, pulling back to read Keith’s expression. “I can’t imagine that went over well.”

“Yeah, it didn’t. So I resigned my commission.”

 _“What?”_ Shiro’s hands swallow Keith’s whole shoulders. He’s not sure who needs the steadying more, him or Shiro, but he’ll take it. “You- you’re serious.”

“I’m sick of being an officer, Shiro. An agent, a soldier… whatever. It was all I knew before, and I am grateful for what I had. The Blades will always be family. Mom and dad made sure of that.”

“I’m glad you have that.”

“Yeah, me too,” Keith admits easily. It wasn’t always so easy; he wasn’t always so sure of his place, the only half-human he’s ever met anywhere. “But it isn’t what I want for me. You made me see that. And I thought I could do both, for a while. You know I tried, but…” Keith trails off with a shrug. “My heart isn’t in it anymore. My heart is here, and it hurts me every time I have to steel myself to leave it behind.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Shiro answers, cheeks dusted pink and ears flicking as he curls protectively over Keith. “Why do I feel like I’m taking something from you?”

Keith’s smile is misty and probably a little dazed. Shiro has that effect on him. “Because you’re always looking for how it could be your fault. But Shiro?”

Shiro hums in question.

“Thank you.” When he still looks confused, Keith takes pity on him. “You showed me another life. The life that I want. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Shiro kisses Keith, softly at first, like a dream. Like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing, what he’s feeling. Then harder as Keith clings to him, edging closer to desperation. Shiro’s teeth are sharp in the most satisfying way.

Shiro is his constant, his center. _This_ is where he belongs. Keith knows this, but the need for reassurance seems only to grow as they hold each other.

Shiro is quiet, wholly focused on Keith’s mouth and lost in his thoughts. Keith knows the way his mate feels, the extra weight of him when he’s _thinking._ He must be thinking about Keith— about his husband staying always, not splitting his time like he was. Shiro would seldom admit that he wanted that, but Keith always knew. And the more Shiro sits with the knowledge of Keith’s choice, the more claiming his mouth and his grip. Breathing hard, he licks into Keith’s mouth with a groan.

“I love you,” Shiro whispers, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I won’t deny it.— of course I want you here.”

“I know,” Keith laughs. “But it’s the same for me. I want this, too.”

“You won’t miss your adventures?”

Keith cocks an eyebrow, puzzled. “We have adventures.”

“No,” Shiro scoffs, “population surveys and nest monitoring, and dragging my equipment through thawing bogs? Definitely _not_ what I meant.”

“Why not?” Keith is perfectly serious. “I love doing those things. With you,” he amends quickly, but it’s not the first time Keith has given himself away. He’s developed a funny affection for that flamboyant little bird, above and beyond being perfectly happy to be doing anything in Shiro’s company. Keith’s priority is always Shiro, but he knows they’re a package deal.

Shiro’s love is infectious; that can hardly be Keith’s fault.

“We have it so good, Shiro.” Keith strokes Shiro’s neck, up from the bandaged shoulder and under his jaw again. Shiro is unabashed about leaning into the scrape of his husband’s nails, his grip flexing happily at Keith’s waist.

“We do, don’t we?” Shiro asks, ears twisting downward with a shy smile. It does funny things to Keith’s heart, warming him from the inside out.

“Yeah,” Keith breathes.

Keith’s hands slide through Shiro’s soft coat real slow, carving along the hard lines and sloping curves of his mate’s body. Shiro is massive, a commanding presence when he wants to be, and yet it’s something else entirely to see how the man melts under Keith’s touch. Shiro goes spineless, curling closer and rolling with Keith bundled in his arms. Keith winds up stretched out over Shiro, riding the mountain of his chest and diving in for deeper kisses.

The touching calms him, feeling the solidness of his mate pressed up under his weight. Keith’s clever fingers find Shiro’s nipples— low, middle, high— circling and teasing his way to his plush chest where he kneads the muscle thoughtlessly. Shiro stirs beneath him, huffing pleasurably.

Keith’s breathing starts to slow, settling into a rolling rhythm. He’s perfectly happy, his whole body coursing with the feeling of it all being _right._

“That’s my baby,” Shiro coos, kissing his temple. Ah, right. Keith is purring again, in his own way. Shiro always notices before Keith does himself.

“Mm,” Keith hums. “Yeah, I am yours. And you’re mine.”

“Yes,” Shiro rumbles, infinitely pleased. His tail twitches feverishly, brushing along Keith’s calf.

“Maybe I need the reminder.” Keith plucks at his nipple, firmly this time, toying with the top two that are the most sensitive by far and letting him really feel it. He relishes the way Shiro’s hips jerk forward in answer. “Will you remind me?”

Shiro trembles. Without knowing Shiro, someone might think it shy, uncertain.But Keith knows him and sees the way his mate’s eyes darken, how he struggles to contain his _need_ and the way those words make him feel.

Hands circling Keith’s waist, Shiro’s fingers meet in the middle. It thrills him. Keith wonders how he still marvels at that simple fact— of being small in Shiro’s hands— and knows he’ll never get used to it. He’ll always look to see Shiro’s thumbs both brushing his treasure trail, like it’s only natural that he should surround Keith so completely.

Shiro holds him by the waist and moves him, sliding length to length. Keith’s breath stutters. Shiro’s cock is slick and firm against his, and though the grind is deliberately slow Keith feels like a live wire.

He needs more.

“Puppy,” he whines, “please. More—” Keith keens sharply at the friction, the perfect drag and catch.

“Impatient,” Shiro marvels, his voice airy. He sounds dizzy, which Keith thinks is very sexy of him. Shiro is devastating like this, his eyes hooded and voice bottomed out and guttural.

He slides his polymer hand between them, the massive grip circling both of their cocks with room to spare. Keith arches to peer down at his hand holding them, knowing the sight always sets his nerves on fire. Shiro moves in long, smooth strokes, coaxing a whimper from Keith’s throat.

“Nnah!” Keith cries as Shiro takes him apart, claws sharp at his waist. He holds himself up on the mountain of his chest, feeling his mate’s heart race under the heel of Keith’s hand. Shiro rumbles low in his chest, rolling his hips up helplessly as he works them both over, stroke after stroke. His eyes lock on Keith’s and won’t leave him.

“That’s it, angel,” Shiro pants. “Look at me, alright?”

Keith’s heart does a funny lurch in his chest. He’s looking, without a doubt— he can’t look away.

“Can you see what you do to me?” Shiro murmurs, his cheeks flushed. His hand gives a little squeeze and a gentle twist over the head. “Can you feel it?”

Shiro’s heart gallops in his chest. It’s a beautiful sensation, visceral and so, so precious. Keith’s vision swims. He gasps his mate’s name and comes.

_“Keith—”_

The lewd cry would undo him if he wasn’t already undone, more so the sweet sound of his name on Shiro’s lips. The wet slide of their spill together is sweet bliss, even as Shiro slows his stroke to a reassuring hold.

“Mine,” Keith whispers, bending down to kiss over Shiro’s heart, the _lub-dub_ still thundering but starting to slow. “My puppy.”

It’s dusk already, Keith notices as he settles over Shiro’s heartbeat. The dimming sky reminds him of the cold outside, stern winter held at bay by a few stout walls, their hearth, their mutual warmth. Shiro’s, warmth, in particular, but he’s happy to share.

“You _are_ my heart,” Keith breathes. Shiro makes a soft, clipped sound. Keith’s fingers brush the cloth bandage again before he realizes his hand is moving. “And I take care of what’s mine.”

Shiro’s chest swells, trembling with feeling. He doesn’t answer in the moment, aside from how he clasps Keith across the back and holds firm until Shiro’s breathing settles again into a steady rhythm.

He doesn’t need to find words for this. Keith hears him just fine.

When the shutters clatter again, Keith climbs off him gingerly, braving the chill in the washroom to fetch a cloth. Cleaning them up brings out Shiro’s purr, just as he knew it would. Keith smiles as he rubs him down in soft strokes, delighted just knowing Shiro feels safe and satisfied.

“Maybe I should call you kitty,” Keith says with a smirk as he arranges some cushions and blankets, hemming them in. It’s not a nest, but it’ll do.

“Nope,” Shiro laughs around a groan, “no, absolutely not. Your parents ruined that one for me when they visited.”

Keith wrinkles his nose at that. “They did?”

“Oh come on, Keith. Your dad, saying ‘Kitten?’ Ring any bells?”

Keith’s eyes widen in surprise, because holy shit, yes, that’s definitely his _mother’s_ pet name. Maybe he’s just tuned it out for so long. His parents are disgustingly in love, and there’s really nothing to be done about it.

Shiro laughs at Keith’s slightly stricken expression.

“I mean, it’s sweet as hell,” Shiro shakes his head, “I’ve give them that. But it was hard enough to keep a meal down with your parents so obviously flirting nearby. If you call me a ‘kitten’ in a delicate moment, I might just die.”

Keith snorts. “Okay, yeah. You, uh, might be right.”

“Uh-huh,” Shiro kisses him soundly. “When am I not right.”

That sends Keith’s eyes rolling. “I’m doing you a favor and not answering that.”

Shiro purses his lips.

“And besides, you _are_ a puppy, too. You give me those puppy dog eyes all the time.”

“I will take whatever _that_ is supposed to mean as a compliment, or gratitude, or something,” Shiro mutters sleepily, nuzzling Keith’s face. His eyes droop closed. “Humans and their fondness for furry creatures.”

Keith does not laugh, but it’s a near thing. His face hurts from smiling, smoothing away the aches from before. Shiro’s right here, whole and happy. As his mate’s breathing quiets and his heart slows, Shiro sinks into his deep purr again. The vibration rocks Keith gently until he’s following the movement with one of his own, his silent not-purr. All of his senses sing with the feeling of it.

Half-sleeping already, Shiro's arm wraps tight around Keith’s middle, comforting and claiming. They drop into sleep together, right where they both want to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [**twitter**](https://twitter.com/bioplast_hero)! ❤️🖤 [Other sheith by this author](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=10209319&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&exclude_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=17504241&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=halloween+party&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=T&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&commit=Sort+and+Filter&user_id=bioplast_hero)
> 
> Psst, [astrapia](https://twitter.com/bioplast_hero/status/1369551769404010499) is a real bird. Her xeno-fauna counterpart here is just as flashy, but a lot more winter-loving and also happens to have a strange affinity for quintessence that the whole ecosystem relies on in winter. And of course that's how sheith met, years before, when the Blade of Marmora sent Keith to investigate the strange energy readings on Borne, and Shiro definitely thought _Keith_ was one of those damn poachers. :) 
> 
> I love comments of any kind, including emoji dances and keysmashes— all welcome. Thank you for reading!


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